"I didn't ask why you were here on Earth, I asked why you came looking for me." Because apparently that wasn't clear enough. Clint has to get used to the fact that he and Loki aren't focused the same way anymore. They can't read everything about each other. It feels like a catastrophic rift in communication, actually, and that beyond sucks.

"And I was my killer," he says. It comes out a little petulant, like an eight-year-old -- but that was my crayon. Any he wasn't really his own, anyway. He just hadn't been Loki's. And he'd never learned what unconditional love really felt like.

For fuck's sake. That nose is getting really distracting.

Clint pulls his pants on, not bothering with the underwear, and steps into the kitchen. Comes out with a towel, and he attempts to pull Loki down into a chair, standing behind him.

"You're doing it wrong," he says, and he tilts Loki's head forward and pinches the bridge of his nose tight. Almost painfully tight.